


Polaris

by purestilinski



Series: it's just enough to know it's there [2]
Category: Victorious (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purestilinski/pseuds/purestilinski
Summary: She really should be over Jade West by now. She isn't.___Sequel to Cigarette Daydreams
Relationships: Tori Vega/Jade West
Series: it's just enough to know it's there [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939309
Comments: 26
Kudos: 89





	Polaris

She should feel happy for her best friend. This is Jade West’s moment. A happy marriage should last a lifetime, and that lifetime begins with the wedding ceremony itself. Close friends and family of the groom and the bride gather together to send two people they hold dear into a new chapter of their lives. Today, by all accounts, should be a great day for everyone involved, especially so for the bride and those who surround her.

Tori fucking hates it.

The moment she arrives at the wedding venue, The Doheny Estate, she wants to leave. She _is_ planning on leaving, as a matter of fact, but she tells herself that she has to wait until the ceremony is over first. She owes that much to her best friend. Jade had chosen her to be the maid of honor after all.

Tori’s contemplating the merits of a quick smoke when Cat rushes up to her in a ridiculously sparkly bright red dress, a panicked look on her face. The redhead hunches over and takes a few deep breaths before popping back up. “Hi, Tori! Jadey needs you, like right now.”

So much for a cigarette, then.

She follows Cat through the front door of the off-white Tudor-style mansion, noting how reminiscent of Gatsby the whole thing seems. They work their way across checkered marble floors and through beautifully-carved archways to one of the lavish bedrooms and Tori has to collect herself before walking inside because if she doesn’t, she knows she is going to have a heart attack at the sight of her best friend.

“You’re late,” Jade snaps, sitting in front of a makeup vanity.

“No, I’m not,” Tori frowns. “I’m early.”

“You’re not early enough,” Jade grumbles. “Cat, could you give us some privacy please?”

“Yeppp!” Cat exclaims, glancing between the two of them once before skipping out of the room.

“Why don’t you want her in here? I thought –”

“Because I look hideous,” she interjects, sounding defeated and anxious. “I look hideous and I won’t admit it to anyone except you.”

“Jade, come on. There’s no way you could ever look hideous.”

She scoffs, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I look hideous when I cry and I sure as hell look hideous now.”

Tori bites her bottom lip to avoid saying something that could get her in trouble, like “I think you’re beautiful when you cry”. Yeah, definitely not something she should tell her friend (her heart pangs at the word) who is about to get married. So, instead she walks over to Jade and says, “Let me see.”

She barely covers the soft gasp that threatens to escape her. Jade looks _beautiful_. Her black embroidered tulle wedding dress with a corset-like bodice fits her body perfectly. Tori has to look away quickly in order to stop herself from blushing. Now is definitely not the time to be ogling the body of a bride-to-be.

Her makeup is a _bit_ messy though. A small smudge must have been created in her frenzy.

“Well,” Jade says hesitantly, “how bad is it?”

“Eh,” Tori shrugs, “could be worse.”

The only thing that stops Jade from blowing a gasket is Tori’s radiant smile. “Come on, let’s fix you up.”

Jade responds with a small grin. “At least you look pretty.”

Tori glances down at her dull pink V-neck dress and feels her cheeks grow rosy. “Shut up.”

Jade laughs, the sound filling her ears like the softest strokes of piano keys.

“Tori?” Jade whispers awhile later, just as Tori is finishing up the last touches of her makeup. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Jade’s easy smile is enough to make her feel like someone reached their hand into her stomach and squeezed her insides.

Because, _fuck_ , she isn’t glad that she’s here.

She feels like she’s walking underwater. She’s always felt like that really, but this time it feels like the seafloor is shifting underneath her, two chunks of the earth grinding against one another as they work to create a terrifyingly tall wall of seawater. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she says with as much cheerfulness as she can muster.

She must succeed because Jade doesn’t say anything, but the words sound hollow to her own ears.

She tries to remind herself that today is about Jade; that her feelings don’t matter and likely never will.

In the bedroom, with just the two of them, it’s a bit easier to pretend.

* * *

She’s going to vomit. 

The notion makes the nauseating feeling of guilt swimming in her stomach worse.

She should be happy for Jade.

She should be happy.

She should be, but she isn’t.

She _can’t_ be.

_Why_ can’t she be happy for her friend?

On some level, Tori knows she is. Jade’s happiness is important to her. But right here, right now, watching Jade and Beck exchange vows and say their “I do’s”, she can’t think of a single damn reason she should be happy.

“You may now kiss one another.”

The moment the words leave the officiant’s lips, Tori tilts her head to focus on the reflection pond. It’s undisturbed aside from the light rippling of shallow water and empty except for the few lilies floating around in it. She doesn’t know why she chooses the reflection pond in particular to look at because they’re in one of the grandest gardens she’ll probably ever get to see and there’s also a willow pool, a beautiful bronze-tinted fountain, and greenery that under any other circumstance she would love to look at.

The longer she stares at it, though, watching as the water undulates and the nymphaeaceaes sway side-to-side, she realizes there might be a song in that shallow body of water. In fact, she’s sure there is.

By the time she looks away, the lyrics already starting to form in her mind, the officiant is talking. The kiss is over – likely has been for a few minutes – and Jade is looking at her with a mixture of concern and what looks to be frustration.

When the officiant wraps up his speech and the rest of the wedding party gets up to follow Beck and Jade to the reception party, Tori stays behind, debating whether or not she should take her leave at that moment. She wants to, God she wants to, but she knows Jade would want her at the reception and would be more than upset if she wasn’t there. _An hour_ , she tells herself.

She can survive one hour at the wedding reception of the woman she loves and one of her close friends.

And she does. She stays close to Jade at the beginning, faking a happy smile like she’s been doing for so many years and talking about this thing or that thing. It’s so much harder to pretend when Jade’s looking at her with an expression of pure joy, like the worst day of Tori’s life is Jade’s happiest. But she stays in character because that’s what she knows how to do; that’s what she’s good at.

And then, around thirty minutes in, Jade and Beck get pulled away by Kira and her family and Tori takes the opportunity to slip away to the bartender, wait her turn for him to notice her, and order a Whiskey Ginger. Ever since the night of the engagement party, she’s abandoned the “no drinking” policy she’d formed after her dad’s death. She isn’t a _heavy_ drinker – her manager and good friend, Caroline, has made sure of that. But, on a night like tonight, she figures there’s no reason not to get fucked up.

She tilts the drink back without much thought and asks for another. The bartender gives her a questioning look but obliges and she chugs the second much like the first. When she asks for a third without waiting, however, the bartender shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am,” he says, glancing over her shoulder.

Tori knows he’s probably looking for Jade and Beck in case there’s trouble, but there’s no way she’s going to cause a scene at Jade’s wedding so she just nods her head and walks away from the bar.

Checking her phone, she decides she’s stayed for long enough that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about leaving and exits the room. She’s not really sure of the mansion’s layout, so she accidentally wanders in and out of a few incorrect rooms on her way to the grand entrance. One of them is a card room with an old-fashioned wooden look. Almost everything inside of it, which isn’t much other than a poker table, leather chairs, and a few wall decorations, is a walnut color. She’s not sure what about it gives her pause; what about it makes her just stop and stare like she’s looking for something that can only be found within that room, but _something_ does. She doesn’t want to be found by one of her friends though, so she closes the door and resumes her search for the exit.

She’s hastily walking down the garnet, sky blue, and slate multi-colored paver driveway, her fingers a whirlwind on her phone’s keyboard, when she hears Andre calling out to her.

“Tori!” Andre sounds like he is exerting himself and, when Tori turns around, she sees him jogging down the driveway to meet her. “Where’re you going?” he asks with a frown. “The reception party’s barely gotten started, chica. Gonna be plenty of good food.”

“I don’t feel well. I think I’m just going to head home.”

She must not sound very convincing because Andre tries a different approach. “Kira was really looking forward to seeing you again. You’ve been kinda unavailable recently.”

She contorts her face into the most believable pained expression she can, which honestly isn’t difficult given this God-awful day, and changes the inflection of her voice. “I’m sorry, Andre. Maybe the three of us can get together sometime soon? I’m going to be sick and I need to get home.”

His frown deepens but he nods his head and she knows he believes her. “Yeah, sometime soon sounds good. It just sucks that you’ll miss the rest of the reception.”

“I know,” she says, silently wishing he’d leave so she could stop pretending. “Say hi to Kira for me?”

“Of course. Do you want me to tell Jade you left?”

“Yeah, tell her I’m not feeling well and that I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for longer.”

Andre nods and turns away before hesitating. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need a ride home?”

The light buzz she’s been feeling over the last few minutes is rapidly spreading throughout her body and she knows it’s only a matter of time until she’s drunk.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Andre.”

He nods one more time before giving her a quick hug and walking away. The moment he does, Tori sends out a text to the contact that’s been pulled up on her phone.

**Can you pick me up?**

**From Greystone?**

**Yes**

**Are you drunk?**

**I’m going to be in like five minutes**

**I’m in the area. I’ll be there in fifteen**

She knows she could wait around the driveway for her ride, but she decides to use the extra time to go back to the garden. On her way back to the reflection pool, she stops and looks at a few of the blooming plants. She can name some of them. The Eucalyptus macrocarpa, known as the “Rose of the West”, are the ones with large powder leaves that look almost completely white and flower blooms that are the brightest color of red she’s possibly ever seen. They remind her of Jade for some reason and she hurries past them.

When she gets to the reflection pond, she plops down onto the paver walkway and stares down at the undisturbed body of water. It’s dark out, but if she squints hard enough, she can still make out the shadow of her reflection, minus most of the details. But it’s enough to temporarily ignore the rapidly growing fogginess of the alcohol taking over in order to figure out the beginnings of lyrics.

When her phone vibrates to inform her that her ride is waiting, she stands up and lets out a gasp at what she sees. Hovering around the bushes near the water are fireflies. Photuris versicolor, to be exact on the genus and species. They’re normally found in the eastern United States, but they’re also one of the only kinds of fireflies that can be found in California. There aren’t that many of them, but the few she can spot light up with a distinct green color that has her in awe.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there and follows the lights with her eyes but, when her phone buzzes again, this time with a text message capped off by an annoyed emoji, she knows it’s been long enough.

She tries to move and frowns when her legs give her a hard time, but then she smiles because _fuck_ , she’s drunk and if she’s drunk she doesn’t have to feel like shit and she stumbles her way to the gatehouse at the bottom of the driveway.

As expected, Caroline is waiting for her outside of her shiny, expensive, diamond white Mercedes AMG S 63. The look of impatience on the blonde’s face evaporates the moment she spots Tori, replaced by a small smile and concerned light blue eyes.

“Before you’re allowed in the car, you have to promise me you won’t throw up,” Caroline says in lieu of a greeting.

“I promise.” The words are followed by an egregious stumble and Caroline’s eyes narrow.

“How much did you have, Vic?” she asks, fiddling with her key fob.

“Twooo, but I d-d-didn’t eat.”

Another misstep and she’s crashing into Caroline, who holds her upright. “How long’s it been since you last ate anything?” 

Tori leans against the blonde’s shoulder until she finds her footing again and then they’re standing side-by-side. She tries to remember but she’s having a hard time because it’s hard to focus on anything when she’s warm and buzzing and she can tell herself that everything’s okay. “Mmmaybeee, yyessterday’s dinner?” she says, voice unsure, after wracking her brain.

“Jesus Christ, Vic,” Caroline breathes out. “We’ll get you McDonald’s or something on the way back to my place.”

“Your place?”

“I’m not leaving you by yourself.” Unlocking the passenger side door, Caroline pops it open and helps Tori inside. Once she no longer has another pair of hands guiding her, though, she flops onto the mahogany Nappa leather. When Tori reaches into her handbag, Caroline shakes her head. “If you’re reaching for a pack of cigarettes right now, I _will_ smack you for even thinking about smoking in my car.”

Tori produces her phone from her handbag and waves it in Caroline’s face, who rolls her eyes and shuts the passenger door. The driver’s side door pops open and Caroline steps into the car, pulling it closed behind her. She double-checks to make sure Tori’s seatbelt is on and then slides hers down with a click.

“Promise you won’t throw up?”

“I alreeadyy did.”

“Pinky promise, then.”

They interlock pinkies.

The drive to McDonald’s mostly consists of Caroline singing along to whatever tune is on the radio and Tori drinking as much water as possible. A few times, Caroline’s need for speed gets to be too much and, at the verbal protests that fill the cabin, she slows down. They’re at the McDonald’s in record time and Tori gets as many chicken nuggets and fries as Caroline will allow her. She tries to eat a fry as soon as the brown to-go bags are passed her way, but Caroline shoots her a pointed look and she re-folds the top of the bag.

“Hey, Care?” she asks when she starts to sober up.

“Yeah?” the blonde responds, eyes never leaving the road as they turn onto Mulholland Drive.

“I need to rent out Greystone Mansion.”

Caroline’s eyes widen and she looks over in surprise before snapping her gaze back to the front. “Vic, that’s…that’s a lot of money. For how long?”

“As long as it takes. I have an idea for a new album.”

“The label already has a sound they want you to stick to.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the label.”

She needs to write this. She doesn’t exactly know what _this_ is yet, but she knows Jade is a part of it. Jade’s a part of _everything_. And, as much as she fucking hates that mansion because the woman she loves just got married there, she’s captivated and inspired by it.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tori knows, coming from Caroline, that means she’ll create the biggest whirlwind of chaos imaginable in order to make it happen.

Later, after she’s devoured her fast food and Caroline’s gone to bed, Tori sits on the fuzzy rug in front of the marble fireplace, a pen and pad in her hand, and starts writing. Her phone buzzes after a few minutes and she glances down to check it, wincing when she sees the message is from Jade.

**Hey, Andre told me you weren’t feeling well earlier. I’m about to head to bed with Beck but text me back and let me know how you’re doing. I really missed you tonight, Tor. I wanted to celebrate with you.**

She ignores it. 

Somewhere between scribbling down lyrics about love and lyrics about emptiness, she breaks down into uncontrollable sobs. 

* * *

A few days after the wedding and on the second day of Jade and Beck’s honeymoon, Tori gets a call from Caroline telling her that everything’s sorted out. Caroline offers to drive her there and wait for her, but Tori has no idea how long she’ll be there and she wants to be alone, so she elects to drive herself.

An hour later, she’s back at the Greystone Mansion. She shuts her phone off so she doesn’t have to see another honeymoon update from Jade and slides it into the right pocket of her ripped blue jeans. And then she’s completely alone.

Just her, 46,000 square feet of impressive architecture, and sixteen acres of land.

Now that she’s here, she doesn’t really know where to start. After a few minutes of contemplation, she decides that it would be better to visit the gardens later at night when she’ll be able to hopefully spot more fireflies. So, she walks up the paver driveway and pushes open the entrance. Once again, she’s met by checkered marble floors and a regal oak staircase. It’s fairly bare and rather airy. She feels small in such a large space. There’s not much here that draws her attention, so she moves on to the card room that she had accidentally walked into last time. It takes her a few tries to find it but, when she does, she’s struck with the same unidentifiable feeling as before.

She sits down in one of the chairs, running her hand against the worn leather. Nothing. A few taxidermies mounted on the wall – a deer, a cow, and a hawk – don’t offer any form of inspiration either. She stares at the wood paneling. Maybe if her eyes sear into it for long enough she can find some answers. But, after a few minutes of _nothing_ , her jaw clenches in frustration because _damn it_ , she was really hoping this would be easier than it’s proving to be. _Something_ about this room drew her to it, but she still has no fucking clue what it could be.

Her mind wanders to Jade and her honeymoon with Beck. The thought immediately leaves a sour taste in her mouth. What are they up to right now in Mykonos? Are they taking a dip in the cave pool of their Cave Tagoo suite? Are they by the Aegean sea? Are they making love in-between five-star hotel sheets?

The strangled noise that erupts from within her can’t be stopped. Her hands clench into tight fists and she slams her head against the backrest. She does it again, harder. Her brain feels like its overloading and she squirms and squirms until the roar of her thoughts dies down and she’s left with silence.

And that’s when she sees the chair tucked away in the corner of the room. It’s made of black leather unlike the others, so it must have been pulled into the room in case there were extra players. But that’s not important – what _is_ important is the white throw pillow with black stains that rests on the chair.

Suddenly, she’s in a different place and a different time. She’s rubbing Jade’s back as the other girl shudders with tears. The rubs turn to feather-like scratches as Jade leans into her, depositing fresh tears and warm puffs of breath onto Tori’s shoulder. Tori’s hands are sliding underneath black material, nails gliding down pale skin. She’s reassuring the girl she loves that everything will be okay while runny makeup stains the pillow behind her back.

With the memory still replaying vividly in her head, she looks back at the poker table and is reminded of late nights playing cards at the kitchen table with her friends. Those nights were the safest she’d ever felt inside the walls of that house. She wonders how she got this way; got so detached from those she once held so close.

The thought is too painful and she almost wants to walk out of the mansion without looking back, but she knows she _needs_ to feel these things in order to write. So, instead, once she’s sure she’s absorbed everything this room has to offer, she gets up and continues on to the next one.

She spends hours getting lost in the mansion, combing through every room. Some, like the bowling alley, she ends up staring at blankly, searching for something that isn’t there. Others, like the bedrooms and the movie theatre, instantly enrapture her. Her last stop before heading out into the gardens is the library. She doesn’t know how long she spends sitting there in the middle of a room that used to be filled with countless books, but she knows it is a long time. She is reminded of the time she and Jade got stuck in the CalArts library after hours. They spent part of the night perusing all the different books and the other part huddled around Tori’s laptop watching Halloween and Friday the 13th because Jade insisted that Tori needed proper education on slasher movies.

When the sun makes way for the moon and the light on the other side of the windows disappears, she finally stands up and works her way out to the garden to be with the fireflies.

* * *

“No,” Tori tries to hide her grin behind the glass of her margarita as she takes a sip. “I’m not giving you any hints.”

“Come on,” Jade whines, her feet kicking at the bottom of the island stool she’s sitting on. “Why not?”

“Because it’s private information.”

“You let me hear a few of the songs off the last album before it was released!” Jade points out in an attempt to sway her.

“You were also _on_ the last album,” Tori points out, taking another sip. “You’re not on this one.” She hesitates before adding, “Besides, this one is…different.”

“Different?” Jade raises an eyebrow, her excitement growing at the new information. “Different how?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“I’ll tell you a little bit about the screenplay I’m working on if you spill some of your secrets,” Jade coaxes, bringing her margarita up to her mouth. Salt from the rim of the glass sticks to her lips and her tongue darts out to capture it.

Tori glances away quickly and pushes down the blush threatening to form. She can’t be thinking like that. Not now. “Once again, the answer is no. You’re not nosing your way into this one,” she says, making sure her voice is steady.

“Not even for a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind?” Jade asks.

“Not even for that,” Tori confirms.

She has a plan. And that plan involves Jade knowing _nothing_ about the album for as long as possible because when she inevitably listens to it, she’s going to _know_ if she doesn’t already. Tori’s escape route is already planned. Well, mostly planned. She’s going to go to Italy, but she can’t decide between the Amalfi Coast and Florence. Either one sounds incredibly nice when the alternative is the look of pure disgust that will surely be on Jade’s face. 

“You’re no fun, Tori,” Jade pouts.

“How did you even find out I was working on something anyway? I know for a fact I didn’t drop any hints.” Tori reaches for the pizza that rests between them on the island, ripping off a slice from the pepperoni half. She takes a bite before setting the piece onto her plate.

“Damon,” Jade replies with a self-satisfied smile.

“Are you serious?” Tori groans. She needs to tell Caroline to keep a tight lid on personal information. “How did you get him to tell you about the album?”

“I didn’t get him to do anything. He willingly told me.”

Jade’s arm extends for a slice from the other half of the pizza – the half with pineapple on it. Tori’s face scrunches up at the sight of it because as much as she loves Jade, who the hell puts pineapple on pizza?

“Uh-huh,” Tori rolls her eyes. “I’m sure nothing influenced his decision.”

“Are you implying something?” Jade cocks a studded brow, her smile growing wider when Tori averts her gaze. “Because you know I have a husband now and something like that would be…incredibly inappropriate.”

Husband.

Beck.

Right.

_She isn’t yours. She’ll never be yours._

_Why would anyone love you like that?_

The painful demon that twists inside of her stomach reaches a hand out to constrict her throat. She tries to swallow past it but she can’t. _Dammit_ , why can’t she find her voice? Jade’s looking at her like she is expecting a response but how the hell is she supposed to give one when it’s impossible to talk? 

The sound of the front door being opened fills the kitchen at that exact moment. Heavy footsteps precede Beck’s entrance. Two brown grocery bags are in each hand and he sets them down with a smile when he sees Tori and Jade at the island.

“Hey, babe.” He leans over and Tori has to look down at her plate so she doesn’t see their lips lock. And then Beck is standing in front of her, arm open for a side-hug. “Hey, Tori.” Instead of leaning into it, she presses herself closer to the marble top and offers him a small wave.

He frowns but returns her greeting, shuffling back towards the bags to start putting the groceries away. She can feel Jade’s gaze burning into the side of her face. She ignores it in favor of downing the rest of her margarita, wincing as the taste of tequila becomes more prominent with the larger gulp.

“Do you want to stay for movie night tonight, Tori?” Jade asks. The lighthearted undertone that had been there all evening is gone, replaced by hesitancy.

“Jade’s making me watch Friday the 13th Part Two,” Beck adds from in front of the stainless steel refrigerator. “I could use somebody else who thinks murdering innocent teenagers is more horrifying than fun.”

“No, thanks,” she says, shutting the idea down before they can get further into their pitch. “I think I’m going to head out soon.”

Beck nods and connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker that is tucked into the corner of the counter, turning up some Top 40s hit. 

She imagines what the aforementioned movie night would look like; imagines Jade and Beck cuddling together on one end of the couch while she’s stuck on the other, being forced to watch as someone else gets to hold the woman she loves. The thought makes her sick to her stomach and, suddenly, she desperately needs air and a cigarette. She stays though – to help put away groceries and make small talk so that Beck hopefully doesn’t catch onto the fact that she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. When Jade and Beck bump hips with each other as they dance to a song, a stupidly domestic act that Tori wishes she was a part of, she burns with a jealousy she knows she shouldn’t feel. Jade isn’t hers. Her brain understands this, but her heart just can’t accept it.

When she finally manages to escape close to forty-five minutes later, the only thing that stops her from breaking down is the smoke that fills her lungs, dopamine releasing thanks to coaxing from the nicotine.

* * *

Caroline and her husband, Stefan, take her out to dinner on the night of her album’s release. There’s still four hours until it hits nine o’ clock at night on the west coast; four hours until the newest addition to every notable streaming platform; four hours until Jade realizes what a fucked up mess Tori is. She’ll take every minute and every second of the allotted time.

There’s only two hours until she’s supposed to be at Jade’s house to celebrate the occasion though. She’ll just have to fake the other two before she can make a break for it.

The fancy steakhouse does nothing to lift her mood, but Caroline knows the real her, so she doesn’t bother trying to pretend she’s overly happy. She enjoys the medium-rare, eight-ounce filet mignon that she orders, but the savory taste is soured by the knowledge of what is to come.

“So, Vic, you’re going to tour this album, right?” Stefan asks from across the table, taking a sip of the blood red wine in front of him. Afterwards, he dabs at his lips with the black serviette.

Tori forces herself to look at him when she talks, absorbing his short, dark brown hair and forest green eyes. “Yeah, I haven’t figured out when yet, but I will.”

A tour means more time spent on stage and less time spent in her own head, something she urgently needs.

“I’m just waiting for Vic’s go ahead and then I’ll start planning,” Caroline adds before biting into her salad. She swallows and then launches into more details. “I’m thinking we’ll do a Europe tour first, maybe at the beginning of next year. We can hit the UK, Italy, Sweden, France, maybe Denmark, and other places. And then we’ll come back to the states. I’ve got a list of venues already in mind.”

“Of course you do,” Tori says with a roll of her eyes.

“I like to be prepared. It’s part of my job. A job that you rely on me to do well, by the way, so don’t go making fun of me.” Caroline tilts her head, the smile on her face screaming confidence.

For the first time since Beck interrupted her pizza-and-alcohol hangout with Jade nearly two weeks ago, the grin that dances across Tori’s lips is genuine. “And part of my job as your friend is to poke fun at you.”

The three of them chat more over dinner, though the closer it gets to the time she’s supposed to be at Jade’s, the less she finds herself contributing to the discussion.

God, why had she decided to record this album in the first place? It felt like something she _had_ to do the moment inspiration struck on Jade’s wedding day. The process of crafting the album – scrawling out the lyrics on sheets of paper, working out the instrumentals, recording it in the studio – had allowed her to bury herself in her work. Ironically, writing and singing about Jade had been the perfect distraction from Jade herself, as well as the mess of tangled emotions that were attached to her.

But now? Now, Jade is going to see what a disaster Tori is. Jade is going to see how irreparable she is (she hasn’t found anything that will fix herself, at least); how disgusting she is for being in love with her best friend; how unworthy she is of even _having_ Jade as a best friend.

At least, if all goes well, she won’t have front row seats for it.

After Stefan and Caroline pay for dinner and Caroline swats away the cash Tori extends to her, they walk back to their cars. She’s in the middle of searching her purse for her keys when a soft hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She turns and comes face-to-face with Caroline’s searching eyes.

“Come here a minute,” Caroline whispers, dragging her a few cars down until they’re standing next to a stranger’s yellow Ferrari. Stefan looks over at them with a raised eyebrow, standing next to his red ‘63 Porsche 356B Karmann coupe, but turns away when he realizes the conversation isn’t for him to hear. Caroline’s hand falls to Tori’s wrist and clasps it gently. “Are you going to be okay?”

Briefly, she thinks about lying. It’s an appealing option, but she also knows Caroline is a bloodhound with a nose trained for sniffing out bullshit. So, she opts for the truth. “I don’t know, Care. I really don’t know. I just…what if this ruins everything? What if she hears _those_ songs and she knows they’re about her? There’s no way she won’t know. I don’t want to not have my best friend anymore.”

The look that forms on Caroline’s face is not one of pity and for that Tori is grateful. Because pity is detachment and incapability of understanding. Pity is looking down at someone else and feeling sorry for them. Instead, the look is sympathetic. The hand around her wrist slides up to her bicep and squeezes. “You won’t lose her, Tori. She’d have to be a complete idiot to let you go just because of your feelings for her. There’s always a way to work it out.”

“But what if there’s not?” she asks, panic dripping from her voice as she runs a shaky hand through her hair. “What if, after eight years of friendship, this is it? I don’t know how I’d be able to live.”

“Hey,” Caroline says, grabbing both of her wrists to hold her steady, “Look at me.” When Tori does, Caroline offers her a sad smile. “If she seriously ends your friendship because your feelings for her are more complicated than ‘best friends’, then I’ll make her disappear.”

Tori’s eyes widen incredulously. “You can’t take her on. She’ll stab you with her scissors!”

Caroline’s smile grows in size as she shrugs her shoulders, the motion tugging Tori forward due to Caroline’s hands still holding onto her. “I’ll have Stefan do it. He knows like…vampires! Vampires who will hunt her down!”

Tori blinks a few times in disbelief. And then she giggles. Caroline’s statement doesn’t make her keel over in laughter or start crying due to how hilarious it is, but it does briefly make her forget her worries as her diaphragm involuntarily tightens and her glottis closes and suddenly she’s hiccupping and finding it hard to get her words out. “Vampires? Really, Care?”

“Hey, I made you laugh, didn’t I?” Caroline’s voice is light as she pulls the shorter girl into a hug that Tori eagerly returns, her arms wrapping around Caroline’s midsection tightly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

* * *

She can do this. She can do this. She can do this.

It’s not that bad, she tells herself. It’s been awhile, since the engagement party to be exact, since she’s been surrounded by all of her friends and their respective partners at once. Cat and Robbie. Andre and Kira. _Jade and Beck_. She’s the only single one present, but it’s not that bad. Jade is tucked into Beck’s side on the couch, chatting away with Kira about a new horror movie. Tori watches from her spot in one of the cream leather recliners as Beck presses a kiss to Jade’s temple. A spark of bitterness lights up inside her and her fingers clench around the material of the armrests. But it’s not that bad. It’s _not._

How can it be bad when all of her friends are happy?

It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t spoken to her mother in over two years; that she’s on rocky terms with Trina because her older sister has been trying to get Tori to re-establish a connection with their mother, a connection that was never truly there in the first place; that her feelings for Jade _still_ haven’t gone away no matter how hard she’s tried. She’s been eating herself up from the inside for years now and she doesn’t know how to make herself stop. But it doesn’t matter.

Because her friends are happy.

Because Jade is happy.

And then she’s glancing back over at Jade and Beck and Beck’s lips are on Jade’s and suddenly it _does_ matter because she can’t _fucking_ take it. Nobody’s gotten up and wandered into the kitchen to get the first drink of the night yet, so Tori figures now is as good a time as any to lead the pack. She gets up to go fix herself a beverage, eyes purposely avoiding Jade’s as she walks by. An array of different alcohols and sodas are lined up in rows on the island. She grabs a red solo cup and the bottle of vodka, pouring a generous amount before adding orange juice to the cup. She takes a sip, smacking her lips together. Then, she reaches for another cup and pours out two shots worth of the clear liquid, swallowing it in one gulp. That cup is deposited into the trash bag on top of the sink and then she’s making her way back to the spacious living room.

When she rejoins everyone else, she can feel a familiar set of eyes on her. She sits down and turns her head to face Andre so that she doesn’t have to look at Jade and how disgustingly domestic she looks with Beck.

“Yo, are we drinking now?” Andre asks, his attention on the red solo cup in her hand. He looks over at Beck, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “Is it alright if I grab something?” 

Beck shrugs his shoulders. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll come with you,” he says. “Babe, you want anything?” he asks Jade.

“Jack and Coke.”

“Gotcha.” He plants another kiss to Jade’s temple before pushing himself to his feet to follow Andre into the kitchen. Tori has to remember that the plastic in her hands is _not_ meant for crushing.

Tori’s subconscious conjures up replacement images of _her_ getting to be the one wrapped around Jade, of _her_ being the one to kiss the raven-haired girl on the temple, of _her_ fetching Jade a drink and another wave of self-loathing washes over her. _God_ , why does her mind have to make it harder for her? Isn’t it bad enough that she’s in love with her best friend, a girl she can never be with, _without_ the torturous betrayal of her own head?

“Hey, Tor, you good?”

Her gaze snaps up to meet questioning blue-green eyes. “Huh?”

Jade frowns. “I asked if you were okay.”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Tori says but, even to her own ears, the words don’t sound as cheery as they normally do.

Jade’s frown deepens. She pushes herself up so that she’s sitting slightly hunched forward, her eyes boring into Tori. “You don’t sound fine.” 

The weight of the gaze causes Tori to fidget.

_God, a cigarette would be so nice right now_.

“I’m good,” she insists, steadying her voice. “Trust me.”

By the way Jade keeps staring at her, like she’s looking at a problem on an exam that she doesn’t quite know how to solve, Tori guesses Jade doesn’t believe her. It’s an awkwardly intense staring match and neither one of them seems intent on losing it.

Until they both break away at the same time when Cat leaps out of her seat, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “S’mores! Can we do s’mores tonight, Jadey?”

“Erm,” Jade says, eyes glancing back at Tori before finally settling on the bubbly redhead. She clears her throat. “Yeah, we can do s’mores tonight.”

“Yay!” Cat exclaims, jumping back down into her seat.

Andre and Beck choose that moment to walk back in, drinks in hand, and Tori internally breathes a sigh of relief because she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle the lull of silence that would have occurred.

Robbie excuses himself to get drinks for himself and Cat. Conversation picks back up rather quickly. Now that almost everyone in the room is accompanied by a red solo cup, Tori takes a big gulp of her drink, enjoying the strong and sharp taste of the screwdriver.

Right around the time Robbie wanders back into the room, Andre launches into a story about a street artist he caught trying to graffiti his studio. Satisfied that Jade’s attention is completely off her, Tori allows herself to sink back into the recliner. She presses the metal button on the inside of the armrest, going along for the ride as her legs are elevated and the top half of her body is forced backwards, chasing the backrest.

She pays attention to the stories the group shares. The words fly into her ears and her brain processes them into thoughts that could contribute to the conversation, but she doesn’t. If she talks, she could say something that messes everything up.

She’d like to enjoy the little time she has left before that happens.

So, she keeps her mouth shut. The only sounds that come from her are the ones she makes when she moves to and from the kitchen with the objective of forgetting the whirlwind of emotions she carries around like a suitcase she mentally unpacks wherever she goes. Everywhere she’s gone, everywhere she goes, and, she fears, everywhere she ever will go will be tainted by the fucked up mess that lives inside of her head.

Sometime after Robbie starts singing a botched version of Favorite Foods, which, by the murderous look in her eyes, Jade isn’t happy about, they move outside to roast marshmallows and make S’mores. Sitting around the rectangular fire pit table, the heat from the flames enveloping Tori like a safe hug, she checks her phone, blinking away spots as the light from the screen contrasts with the darkening sky. Fifteen minutes left until her album drops. She _really_ hopes no-one suggests they listen to it on release. She takes a bite of her S’more, relaxing a little when the combination of near-liquid chocolate, marshmallow, and graham cracker floods her taste buds.

Tori doesn’t realize she’s been spoken to until a finger taps her shoulder and a few locks of raven hair fill the corner of her vision. “Huh?”

“I asked you if you remembered the night we snuck onto the roof of Chouinard,” Jade repeats.

Tori stiffens up at the question, the little bit of tranquility she managed to find in gooey food and waltzing flames vaporizing in an instant.

Chouinard. Roof. Jade had snuck a bottle of Oregon Riesling and a picnic blanket up with them so that they could stargaze. How could she forget that night? Jade and Beck had been broken up for exactly a month on the day and, just hours before Jade had dragged her up the maintenance stairs, she had been ready to spill everything. The couple had never called it quits for that long and she thought that, _maybe,_ she finally had a chance.

Only to get home and find a sock on the door.

She’d slid down the exterior of their dorm and cried in the hallway, the solid wall pressed against her back the only thing separating her from Jade and Beck and hot flesh slotting together. For the next two hours, Jade’s text messages had gone ignored as she forced herself to swallow her tears at the music pavilion. By the time Jade had found her, excitement plastered across her face as she shared the news, Tori had wiped all traces of anguish from her face.

If she had to pick out a handful of the worst days of her life, that day, November 19th of their junior year, would make the cut.

Not that Jade knows that.

“Yeah,” Tori says, forcing straining muscles into the realest smile she can muster. “We stayed up there past midnight.”

“What was that one star you told me about?” Jade asks, carefully positioning the marshmallow that dangled from the edge of her poker stick above the outskirts of the fire.

“Polaris,” Tori says, her mind taking her back to that night. To the hardness of the roof underneath the thin softness of the blanket. To the fruity grape taste of white wine. To the warmth of Jade’s body and the steadiness of her breath. To a night that could have been _everything_ between them but was instead nothing at all. “It’s the North Star, the one that’s almost perfectly still while the rest of the sky shifts around it.” She takes a sip from her drink and looks away from Jade when she adds, “Some people say it’s the brightest star in the sky, but it’s not. It’s ranked around fiftieth. But it’s still easy to spot and, once you find it, you know you’re looking north. That’s why people call it the Guiding Star.”

When her eyes finally meet Jade’s, she’s surprised at the amount of gentleness that colors those blue-green orbs. “Such an astronomy nerd.” 

Jade’s voice is filled with fondness and, when the words seep into Tori’s ears, her shoulders automatically loosen themselves. “I’m an all-around nerd, not just an astronomy one.”

Jade laughs, taking one hand off the poker to reach into the bag of marshmallows. She grabs one and chucks it at Tori, whose hand shoots out to grab it. She fumbles with it for a few moments, the marshmallow rolling around in her palm, until she pops it into her mouth with a satisfied grin.

The moment reminds her of countless nights spent with Jade during college. Nights where they were carefree, tipsily wandering back to the room they shared after drinking and dancing at whatever college party was going on that particular night, greasy burgers in hand. Jade’s laughter now is reminiscent of what it was like back then, the most lighthearted and peaceful noise in the world.

Her trip down memory lane is ruined when Robbie speaks up again. “Guys, it’s almost nine,” he informs. He presses the power button on his phone and shoves it back in his pocket. “Should we give the album a listen right away?”

As a chorus of affirmatives rings out amongst them, Tori freezes in place, her hands gripping the curves of the armrests so hard her knuckles turn white.

_No. No. No._

She’s not supposed to be there when Jade listens to it. She’s supposed to be far away, on her damn vacation, so her heart can break over the phone instead of face-to-face with the woman she loves. She doesn’t register that her breathing has grown increasingly shallow until she has to turn her head away to silently gasp for air.

“That’s a great idea!” Beck says, starting to get up from his chair. “We’ve got a Bluetooth speaker set up out here, so I can just move some more of the drinks to the table. That way nobody has to miss any of it.”

Tori picks up her half-filled cup and slams down the contents. With everything else she’s already drank, she hopes it’s enough to take her over the threshold to wasted.

Jade’s concerned voice rings out, “Guys, I don’t know –”

But then Andre starts talking and the entire group explodes into excited chatter, effectively cutting her off.

Tori frowns. Concerned? Why is Jade concerned? She turns her head, flinching due to the suddenness of Jade’s close proximity. Jade’s hand covers her own and the warmth that floods over her forces her to stifle a gasp.

“Hey,” Jade whispers into her ear, and Tori can’t help the shudder that runs through her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…I can’t…”

“Can’t what? What do you need me to do, Tor?” Jade’s murmur is rushed, worry evident in the speed at which the words leave her mouth.

“I need air,” she says, voice slurring the slightest bit as the alcohol begins to work its magic through her system.

“But, we’re outside,” Jade’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion before recognition flashes across her features. She turns to the rest of the group. “Hey guys, Tori and I are going to grab some more drinks. We’ll be right back.” She offers her hand to Tori and waits patiently for the other girl to take it. When Tori does, Jade hoists her to her feet, but doesn’t let go of her hand. Instead, she interlaces their fingers and tugs her towards the house.

Jade closes the glass slider behind them with a little more force than necessary, dragging Tori along until they’re back in the living room. “Hey,” Jade repeats softly, sitting Tori down on the couch and crouching in front of her. “I’m right here. What’s wrong?” 

Tori’s attempt at a steadying breath is cut short by the sharp inhale that tightens her chest when Jade moves to sit next to her so that she can run a hand up and down Tori’s back. Chugging the rest of that cup had done its intended job; Tori had crossed the line into drunken territory. Her head hums, a pleasant melody that she can’t quite put her finger on in this state, and all of a sudden letting herself relax into Jade’s embrace seems like the easiest decision in the world. So, she does. She presses her body close to Jade’s and tilts her head so that it rests in the crook of a pale neck.

“Tor?” Jade asks, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Yeah?” Tori asks, her breath puffing against Jade’s neck. It would be so easy to press her lips into the expanse of soft skin underneath her. The thought, and the image to go along with it, flit through Tori’s mind, but she doesn’t. She tells herself she can’t.

Jade clears her throat and Tori can feel the rumble of it. “What are you doing?”

“Relaxing,” Tori murmurs.

She pushes her hips the slightest bit more to the right and waits. When Jade makes no move to stop her, she closes the gap between them the rest of the way, so that they’re flush together. They stay like that for a few minutes, neither willing to move, until Jade is the first to break the stillness by tilting her head down, her raven locks caressing Tori’s face. Tori looks up and her eyes are met with the fullness of Jade’s lips. The sight is an invitation she can’t help but accept and she leans forward. Jade’s surprised gasp is cut off by Tori’s lips pressed against hers. The kiss is desperate, filled with years of pent-up emotions, both wondrous and agonizing, begging for Jade to reciprocate. A relaxed sigh is breathed into the kiss when Jade does just that, moving with an eagerness that causes Tori’s heart to flutter.

And then Jade is pulling away, shaking her head, a panicked look in her eyes. “Tori, stop,” she whispers when Tori tries to follow. In the blink of an eye, Jade is off the couch, backing away with her eyes trained on the half-Latina.

“Jade,” Tori mutters.

Tori presses her open palms into the cushion to push herself to her feet, but Jade puts up a hand in warning, shaking her head, and Tori slumps back down.

“Tori. What was that?” Jade’s voice is colored with confusion, but it’s the undertone of anger that sends Tori reeling as she realizes what she’s done.

“Jade, I’m…fuck, I’m sorry,” she whispers.

_Fuck._ She just ruined everything. She’d been so worried about how Jade would react to the album; so sure that it would be the thing that crumbled their friendship. And yet, she did it herself. She’s supposed to be all the way in Italy, waiting for the inevitable phone call that would crush her heart, not staring the girl she loves in the eye, watching as hundreds of little nuanced emotions flash across her face.

Jade opens her mouth to speak and, suddenly, Tori’s a little girl again, watching as her mother uses her favorite Blue Canton plate, the one with pretty flowers webbing their way out of the center, as a weapon against her father. The plate hits her dad’s chest, dislodging the whiskey bottle from his hand, before joining the bottle in its speedy descent. Broken pieces of glass and ceramic explode together in a shattering symphony. 

She can’t fix this, just like she couldn’t fix her parents’ relationship. But, unlike back then, she can minimize the damage. She can run.

Tori tries to sound confident when she speaks, but her voice is fragile. “I should go.” She stands on shaky legs, stumbling forward and to the side until she finds her balance.

“What?” Jade snaps, blinking in surprise. “You’re not in any condition to drive anywhere.”

“I know that. I’ll take an Uber. I’m not going to put other people in danger.”

Jade’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t mention how Tori didn’t include herself in that statement.

Tori waits for Jade to say something, anything. When Jade doesn’t, Tori swallows the lump in her throat and walks out the door, the stained glass of her heart cracking even farther, until the image is no longer decipherable.

* * *

A bold piece of Renaissance architecture cutting across the skyline of the city, visible above nearly everything else. A centerpiece of life, begging for the inhabitants of Florence to stop and stare. An elaborate pattern of polychrome marble panels. Splashes of greens and pinks bordered by whites. A façade filled with statues and paintings that are all religious in nature. A gigantic bell tower with each window designed to look like its own mini-tower, capped off by a thin needle. A long middle portion that, viewed from the right angle, looks like it serves as a connection between the tower and the main attraction, the octagonal dome that caps it all off. An exedra placed perfectly right below the dome. A series of meticulously laid bricks held together and accented by white brick arches that curved their way to the top. A lantern, built at the very top of the dome, with a balcony and a cross.

Tori looks up at Il Duomo di Firenze, trying to get the hinge of her lower jaw to work properly so she can shut her mouth. She’d always wanted to see this piece of architectural wonder since she first taught herself about it at the age of seven, and now she’s here, standing in front of it, taking in the beauty of one of the world’s most outstanding manmade inventions.

She manages to shake herself out of her stupor just enough to pull out her phone. With a burst of child-like eagerness, she walks around the Florence Cathedral, snapping pictures as she goes. She doesn’t know how long she spends capturing each and every little detail that captures her interest because there’s so much she has to stop for but, by the time she’s done, there’s at least a hundred new photos in her camera roll.

Before Tori knows what she’s doing, she’s selecting a few of her favorites and opening up Jade’s contact to send them to her. And then she blinks, staring at the screen as a frown tugs her lips downward. The phone feels like one of the bricks that line Il Duomo, surprising her with its heaviness, and all she wants to do is drop it; to remove that weight from her hand. She shoves the phone in the left pocket of her jeans, ignoring how the weight merely transfers from her hand to her thigh.

“Did you know,” a soft voice with an Italian accent whispers from behind her, close enough to be invading personal space, “that Il Duomo was made by a goldsmith? Sure, he learned a bunch of other skills during his apprenticeship, like drawing and setting stone, but he started out as a goldsmith. They had this competition for who would get to design and oversee the Dome, and the goldsmith, Brunelleschi, beat out his biggest rival, Lorenzo Russo. Russo got stuck collaborating on the project with Brunelleschi. Poor guys must have hated every moment of that.”

“Actually, his name’s Lorenzo Ghiberti. And, although Ghiberti _claimed_ to have collaborated on the project with Brunelleschi, there’s no evidence to support it, not even an affirmation from Brunelleschi himself. It’s more likely that, along with designing the stained glass windows, he worked as a consultant to supervisors assigned to other parts of the project since they didn’t like each other. Brunelleschi didn’t want anything to do with Ghiberti after their designs for the second set of cathedral doors wound up tied in a different competition,” Tori corrects, a triumphant smirk evident in her voice.

She turns around, a lopsided smile forming at the sight of the surprised expression on the face of a woman who looks to be a few years older than her. The woman’s light brown eyes are two pools of honey that glitter in the bright sunlight. Her hair is a slightly darker shade of brown than her eyes and it falls in stringy waves to the tops of her shoulders. Tori skims over olive skin and thin, dark red lips to a diamond jawline, stopping herself before she can do anything more than acknowledge the yellow sundress that fits her nicely.

The woman blinks her surprise away. She steps forward and, as she does, Tori realizes that this stranger is also taller than her by an inch or two. “Well, may I ask the name of this beautiful tourist who seems to know more about my own city than I do?” she asks with a warm, inviting smile that disarms Tori easily.

“Tori. And you are?”

“Elladora. Or Ell. Whichever is fine.” Elladora looks lost in thought, nose scrunched in concentration as she stares. Tori’s legs take turns carrying the brunt of her weight as she shifts back and forth, uncomfortable under the intense attention. “Say, you wouldn’t be Tori Vega, the singer, would you? You look awfully familiar.”

“I am, yeah,” Tori says with as much friendliness as she can muster, the façade of this enjoyable vacation already starting to crumble around her.

_Please don’t ask about the new album._

_Please don’t ask about the new album._

_Please don’t_.

“You don’t sound very thrilled about that fact,” Elladora says, voice light and teasing. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask for an autograph or anything.” Elladora extends a hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, Tori shakes it, the tension that had rapidly seized her entire being moments ago fading fast.

“Sorry. I just…wanted to enjoy a vacation before I had to go back to the everyday bullshit.”

Elladora raises an eyebrow, each thick, short hair filled with questions and surprise at the revelation. “Rough time back home?” she asks. When Tori bites her bottom lip and averts her gaze instead of providing an answer, Elladora shakes her head and puts a placating hand in the space between them. “Sorry, we can just backtrack and forget either of us said anything, if you want.”

Tori hesitates, taking her time with exploring the building’s façade. The rose window calls to her and she absorbs the twenty-eight panels that make it up, along with the orange-ish color that forms a ring around it. There’s a beauty in it, in all of it, in the kind of architecture that’s almost as timeless as the stars, and it reminds of her of something that she can’t place her finger on.

(She let that something slip from her the night of the engagement party and replaced it with the burning sensation of hard alcohol sliding down her throat and the exhale of hazy smoke, sand beneath her and the entire expanse of the sea in front of her.)

“That window was made by a glassmaker named Niccolò di Pietro Tedesco in 1405. On the inside, there’s a portrayal of the Assumption of Mary,” Elladora points out.

Tori nods. “Tedesco followed Ghiberti’s design. I know.”

Elladora groans. “Am I going to be able to impress you with _anything_?”

“Oh, so you’re trying to impress me?” Tori asks, surprised by her forwardness, but she quickly recovers.

Elladora shrugs and tries to look innocent but, if anything, she winds up looking more suspicious. “Well, I usually walk by here every day on my lunch break and I can’t say I’ve seen you around before. So, I thought…why not try to impress the pretty stranger?”

For the first time since the conversation started, the weight in her pocket makes itself known. Her hand absentmindedly roams the front of her jeans and finds the outline of the object, pressing down into it as if she could crush it. Her mind screams at her not to ask her next question, a traitor to her own possible happiness, but she manages to verbalize it. “Hmm, and what were you going to do if you did impress ‘the pretty stranger’?”

“Well, I _was_ going to ask the pretty stranger if she would like to get dinner with me, but it appears that I failed on the whole ‘impress her’ bit,” Elladora says, her confidence slipping as she reaches behind herself to scratch the back of her neck.

The weight is heavier, a boulder that Tori unwillingly carries with her. She steps forward despite it, the right corner of her lips tugging up. “And what if, hypothetically, of course, you did impress me?”

Elladora’s grin returns in full force and her body snaps back to its self-assured posture. “Then, hypothetically, I would ask you if dinner tonight, seven o'clock, at Ristorante il Paiolo sounds appealing.”

“Hypothetically, it does,” Tori says with a nod, the left corner of her lips pulling up to match the right.

Elladora checks the clock on her phone and pouts. But then she’s looking back up at Tori and smiling. “I’ve got to start walking back to work since my lunch break is almost over. But, hypothetically, I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you then,” Tori says, ignoring the buzz of a notification on her phone. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Elladora laughs, a bright, bubbly sound that reminds her of Cat. “Of course.”

Tori watches as the other woman turns away. Elladora stops once or twice to glance at the cathedral as she weaves between crowds of people, some who navigate the streets like the back of their hands and others who look hopelessly lost, a swing in her step. Before rounding a corner, she turns around and waves at Tori. Before Tori can wave back, she’s out of sight.

Her phone buzzes again.

This time, she checks the message. 

* * *

On the outside, Ristorante il Paiolo is a small, unassuming hole in the wall but on the inside it becomes fancier, with long white tablecloths, burgundy seats, spruce wood floors, a chandelier that hangs in the center of the room, and endless shelves filled with wine. None of it really matters to her; she isn’t looking to be impressed by fancy restaurants and expensive meals, especially not when Elladora is in that same yellow sundress from earlier, her hair pulled into an expertly crafted crown braid, the rest flowing down one shoulder in a messy ponytail.

Tori digs into her gnocchi alla sorrentina, rolling the shell-shaped pasta in tomato sauce before finally stabbing some with her fork. She takes a bite, a small smile on her face as she listens to Elladora’s story about the time she almost set fire to her mom’s kitchen trying to make pasta when she was eight years old.

“My sister thought it was the funniest thing,” Elladora wraps up her story. “She was laughing her head off because Mom looked so concerned for my safety but you could tell she was trying not to yell.” She pops a piece of bloody steak into her mouth, chews, swallows, and then points at Tori with her fork. “What about you? Any funny childhood stories?”

A beer bottle breaking against the wall, one of the fragments slicing her forehead open.

Her favorite plate working alongside a bottle of Sinatra Select Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey to create an explosion at her father’s feet that would put a meteor to shame.

Affairs and divorce papers and never being good enough for anybody because she’s just Tori Vega and nobody likes Tori Vega enough to keep her around forever.

“Touchy subject,” is all she says, the thinnest, fakest smile on her face.

“Gotcha, okay. What got you into the Cathedral then?”

Tori leans forward. This, she can talk about. “It was this one day in second grade. We were supposed to be learning addition of whole tens, you know seventy plus thirty and all that boring stuff, which I already knew because it was easy so I taught it to myself. So, instead of following the line leader back to class, I wandered into the library and just started looking for books. I wasn’t really in the mood for a fantasy or anything like that; I wanted to learn something that actually _interested_ me. One of the books I picked up was about the architecture of a bunch of famous buildings around the world, and the Florence Cathedral was in there. I didn’t get to finish reading the section before I was dragged back to class and lectured by the teacher, but I came back after school to keep reading.”

“So were you like, a kid genius or something?”

Tori sips her Pinot Grigio and shrugs. “I never really thought of myself like that. School was just…dull and I wanted to teach myself new things. Things that actually interested me.”

Elladora nods. “I get that. When I was younger, my mom tried to get me to follow in her footsteps and become a physician which, ew, no. And now I’m an IT project manager. Way more interesting than all that medical mumbo jumbo.” A bit of juice dribbles onto her lower lip from the next bite of her steak and she dabs at it with the black serviette. “How’d music find its way into your life?”

Tori laughs, a genuine sound charged by a mishap involving Chinese herbs, her estranged sister, and a chill tenth grader who would come to be one of her best friends. “Well, that’s a long, funny, and probably _very stupid_ story.”

Elladora grins. “I’m listening.”

So she tells it.

* * *

“Why did you talk to me earlier, outside the cathedral?” Tori can’t help but ask on the walk back to the hotel she’s staying at, a five-star named Ville Sull’Arno.

The walk is about half an hour long and they’re nearing the home stretch, which Tori is relieved about because she’s been standing all day and getting back to freshly-made sheets in the Villa sounds like heaven. When she originally booked the hotel, she was thinking about going with the Villino instead as it overlooks the Arno, the smell of the river accented by the olive trees on the terrace but, ultimately, she went with the Villa due to its callbacks to Renaissance life.

“Pardon?” Elladora raises an eyebrow at the question in a manner so Jade-like that Tori almost stops walking. She doesn’t, though, and she just barely manages to avoid bumping into a speed walking man who isn’t paying attention to his surroundings. “I told you earlier that I thought you were pretty and you looked new to the area. I thought I’d introduce myself, gauge your interest, and maybe ask you out on a date.”

A _date_.

She knows that’s what that was – had known that since Elladora asked earlier – but hearing it verbalized causes that weight to return with brutal force. Something twists and contorts and does acrobatics tying itself into knots in her chest.

Because she’s still in love with Jade and this woman isn’t her.

Nobody’s ever going to be her.

That’s not a new revelation, but it’s one that stings all the same.

All she can do is hum in acknowledgment, slamming her eyelids shut for a few brief moments to clear them of water.

As they near the final stop of the night, Elladora speaks up again. “Look, Tori, I know you go back pretty soon, but I had a really nice time tonight. And, well, if you want to go out again before you leave or keep in touch when you go home,” she digs around in her beige purse for a few moments before pulling out a napkin from the restaurant and handing it to Tori, “here’s my cell number.”

Tori looks at the digits written in smudged black ink, turning her head away from Elladora so her frown is impossible to spot.

She makes no promises.

After Elladora bids her goodnight and she retreats into the confines of her room, surrounded by marble and wood carvings that are reminiscent of a time long since passed, she can’t stop the waterfall of tears that have been begging to escape past the corners of her eyes and down her pronounced cheeks.

* * *

**We should probably talk.**

The message stares back at her as she waits outside Jade’s front door, one hand rasping on the door.

It’s dark out and it’s nearly impossible to see her surroundings without the light provided by her phone. The chilly night air is mostly repelled thanks to the black beanie on her head, the old Hollywood Arts hoodie pulled over her head with the school’s logo fading, and the blue jeans protecting her legs, but her face is left exposed, cheeks red from the cold.

When Tori hears the lock twisting on the other side, she quickly shoves her phone in her pocket. The door swings open to reveal Jade, who looks like she hasn’t slept since Tori walked out the door a week ago.

“Hi,” Jade says, voice small and so uncharacteristic of her that Tori wonders if this moment has weighed just as much on Jade’s mind as it has on hers. “Let me just grab water and then we can go.”

“I’m not allowed in?” Tori asks in a joking tone, a half-smile on her face. But she knows the answer to that question already and she drops the fake upturn of her lips almost as soon as it appears.

Jade’s face is blank, unreadable as she starts to close the door again. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

And then the door clicks shut and her eyes are already tasked with blinking away tears. But she won’t let herself cry, not yet at least. She would rather wait until after their friendship finishes imploding in her face.

At least that way all the tears would come out at once.

The door opens again and Jade steps outside, all disheveled in ratty gray sweatpants and a white tee that’s a little too tight, two water bottles in one hand and an insulated black leather jacket in the other. Tori averts her eyes quickly and takes the blue metal water bottle that Jade wordlessly hands to her.

“Where are we going?” Tori questions.

Jade pulls on the jacket and zips it up. She takes her time unscrewing the water bottle before taking a long sip. “Figured we’d take a walk on the beach. There’s almost nobody there this late at night.”

Tori needs, letting Jade lead the way down to the beach. They walk across a dirt path. An old wooden staircase waits for them at the end of it and they descend. It’s wide enough for them to walk side-by-side but Tori lets Jade maintain the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” she says when both of her feet leave wood to connect with sand. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Jade keeps walking closer and closer to the ocean and Tori has no choice but to follow, even as the silence between them grows increasingly awkward and tense. She wonders if she should repeat herself because Jade isn’t talking and it’s either because she didn’t hear her or she’s ignoring her and she’d rather believe the former than the latter.

When two minutes go by and Jade still hasn’t responded, Tori reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie and flips open a pack of cigarettes. She places it in her mouth before closing the pack back up and exchanging it for her stainless steel lighter.

“You told me you stopped smoking that shit,” Jade finally speaks up.

Tori shrugs and speaks around the object in her mouth. “I wasn’t lying. I did stop for a while. I just never told you when I picked it back up again.”

Jade grunts, annoyance creeping its way into the sound, but Tori ignores the judgment and flicks the lighter, thanking her past self for upgrading from disposable butane to the better quality Zippo. The flame dances and ignites the end of the cigarette.

“So,” Jade starts, spearing her foot downwards, a small pile of sand flying out in all directions. “I guess when you told me that you were happy for me and Beck, you lied.”

Tori takes a drag of the cigarette, watching as Jade’s nose crinkles when she exhales the smoke. “I didn’t lie,” she says. But she knows that in itself is a lie, so she amends it. “I was happy for you. Somewhere deep down inside, I was happy that you were happy. But I was also crushed.”

“Is that why you disappeared with a bottle of Ardbeg Ten Year Old?” Jade asks, her voice betraying only the smallest hint of emotion.

“Um-hum.”

“That shit is expensive,” Jade says bluntly.

“Is it? It tasted like shit.”

Jade snorts, the barest hint of a smile ghosting her lips before they pull into a frown. “And my wedding? You weren’t really sick, were you?” Her voice is steady and, other than the downturn of her lips, Tori can’t tell what she’s thinking. “I listened to the whole album. I have a feeling that part about _Isabel_ running away from her friend’s wedding wasn’t exactly fictional.”

“No,” Tori says, lowering her head and puffing out another cloud of smoke. “I wasn’t sick.”

“Gotcha,” Jade replies. The singular world is so stilted, so devoid of any warmth, that Tori has to close her eyes.

_Fuck,_ it isn’t supposed to be like this.

“Although, maybe I am…in a different way.”

“In a different way?”

If she’s going to destroy the haven of their friendship, she may as well shatter all the windows and batter the door to pieces.

“Maybe I’m sick for being in love with my best friend.” 

“I…in love?” Jade’s mask lowers as her voice cracks. She takes a step backward, away from Tori.

And really, maybe it was always supposed to be like this. Carly left for Seattle and never kept in touch; her mother left the moment she started fucking Gary; her father left and got himself killed; and Trina left when she saw how big of a mess Tori had become. Jade’s just following the pre-established pattern laid out before her.

Today’s just the expiration date on Jade’s stay.

Tori laughs at the utter surprise that colors Jade’s face. “Why the fuck do you think I kissed you?”

“I don’t know!” Jade exclaims, and the panic in her voice causes Tori’s heart to plummet even more. “I thought maybe it was an in the moment thing. I didn’t think, ya know, that.”

“You kissed me back,” Tori points out, bringing the cigarette back up to her lips.

Jade glares at the thing like she wants to pluck it out of her mouth and throw it into the ocean, but all she does is take another step back, another step away from Tori. “No, I didn’t.” Her voice is smooth as silk, no indication of a lie detectable in it, but the aversion of her eyes and the tic of her jaw give her away.

Tori narrows her eyes, rolling the smoke around in her mouth before breathing it out slowly in a thin stream. “Yes, you did.”

Jade doesn’t confirm it but, honestly, she doesn’t need to. Instead, she starts walking again. “Come on.”

“Jade,” Tori sighs, “where are we going?”

“I told you, the beach,” she says, tossing a dismissive hand up.

“We’re at the beach!”

“Fine. We’re going to the fucking alcove that you found when you ditched my engagement party, happy?” Jade growls, irritation seeping into her words and suddenly it’s like they’re sixteen again and Jade’s found Tori standing way too close to Beck for any girlfriend to be okay with. She takes a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Tori says, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “But it’s fine. I deserved it.”

They walk the remaining distance to the alcove in silence.

Once they’re underneath the natural arch of the rock formation, Jade slides down the rough surface until she’s sitting in the sand. Tori follows her lead.

“When did you know?” Jade asks, taking a sip of her water.

“I had a crush on you from the day I met you, as cliché and stupid as it sounds. You were a bitch and all I could think about was how pretty you looked. But the moment I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with you was the night I ran out of the house and you found me at the gas station, Jade. You were telling me about that argument you had with Beck, the one that was so bad you were in tears when you came over, and I…I was tired of fighting what had been true for a while.”

She waits and waits for Jade to say something. She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but it’s not what Jade says after two minutes of silence. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Are you sure you _want_ one?”

Jade chuckles, though the sound is anxious rather than humorful. “No, but a nicotine buzz seems like it might make it easier to say what I’m about to say.”

“What are you about to say?” Tori asks, rushing to take her first sip of water when her throat struggles with getting the words out.

“That night? Tor, I was searching for fucking _hours_ that night. I was worried fucking sick and I started thinking,” Jade takes a big gulp of water, splashing some against her front in her haste. “I started thinking and then I couldn’t stop and I realized…” She trails off, screwing her eyes closed and pressing herself tighter against the wall.

“What did you realize?” Tori asks, turning to Jade, her hand finding the raven-haired girl’s knee and squeezing it reassuringly. 

Jade searches for Tori’s hand with her own, lifting it off of her knee so they can interlock fingers. When she opens her eyes, they’re filled with fresh water. “I realized that friendship wasn’t all I felt for you.”

Tori’s heart slams against her ribcage at breakneck speed and, when the first battering ram of a hit isn’t enough to shatter its cage, her heart does it again and again and again. “Are you saying?” And then Jade’s words hit her all over again and her heart goes impossibly still, freezing over in an attempt to defend itself from the inevitably of what she knows is coming. “Wasn’t? As in…past tense?”

Jade nods and even the ice wrapped around Tori’s heart can’t protect her from what comes next. “I love Beck, Tori. I really do. And I loved you too, for a while. But I knew I couldn’t love you both. I didn’t know you loved me back.” Jade chokes up at the end, tightening her grip on Tori’s hand.

“Would it have made a difference?”

She can feel the emptiness washing over her anew. She lets it, doesn’t even try to fight back. It’s so familiar at this point.

“No,” and Tori knows Jade’s crying but she doesn’t bother with reassurances because she can feel the tears start to form again in her own eyes.

This time, she knows there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They erupt violently from her soul without permission. Jade wraps an arm around Tori, pulling her until she’s pressed protectively into Jade’s side as they allow themselves to cry together.

“You’re my best friend,” Jade starts, voice wet. “Do you…do you think that can be enough?”

It isn’t.

But maybe one day it will be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still figuring out how the dang app works, but feel free to chat me up at @cupcakesandcookies on Tumblr! 
> 
> The titles of both the fic and the series come from the song of the same name by Jimmy Eat World. Give it a listen if you'd like to know what inspired it :)


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